Equilibrium
by Loud-Bass-Woman
Summary: SLASH [‘Now we’re equal,’ I whisper to his motionless body.] It is all too soon that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are at equilibrium.


A/N: Hmmm. An 'interesting' piece in Harry's POV. It doesn't really make any sense whatsoever. :::nods::: Guess you people will like it then. Read & review or flame or whatever.

Disclaimer: Blah not blah mine blah blah.

WARNINGS: The usual stuff. Angst, violence, swearing, and of course, my beloveds, slash.

Dedication: MourningDove, because, darling, you are simply brilliant and an inspiration.

**Equilibrium**

"You killed those people, Malfoy."

I approach the figure cloaked in black. The robes are drowning his small frame. Drowning him. I can tell.

"You killed those people."

You killed them, and I trusted you. I trusted you to make a choice, but not this one. You betrayed me.

He turns around, his face blank.

"How very observant of you, Potter."

His voice is hoarse. He sounds so strange, and he's, he's . . .

What's wrong with him?

"What's the matter with you?"

Don't you understand? You killed a human being, Draco, you killed a human being. How can you live with yourself?

You killed Hermione, you bastard, you killed her!

She was clever and she was a muggleborn and she was like the sister I never had and I loved her, I loved her so much, and you took her away from me, you _took her away!_

"You killed Hermione."

He smiles at me. _Smiles_ at me.

I'll get you, you bastard, I swear.

"Yes. Would you care for a detailed account of how slowly she died, how I tortured her to death? How I put the Cruciatus Curse on her until she could hardly talk, let alone move? How I fucked up her whole fucking mind, her whole fucking body?"

Nonononono stop it, stop it, I can't hear you, I can't hear you, you're not Draco, Draco wouldn't do that, Draco wouldn't kill-

"Yes, Potter, I'm a murderer, yes, Potter, I killed all those people, and yes, Potter, _I don't care_."

"NO!"

My fist flies out and hits him on his cheek. He is knocked backwards from the force of my blow.

He gets up, bleeding from the mouth. He doesn't seem to notice.

"Go on. Hit me again. Hit me again, Harry. You know you want to."

So I do.

I hit him, I kick him, I punch him, I pound all my anger directed towards Voldemort and his Death Eaters into him, and I make him hurt and bleed and drown and-

"Draco," I whisper.

He gets up from the floor, all bruised and battered and bleeding, but he still stands tall, stands proud.

I open my mouth to apologise (because it's the only thing I can think of doing), but he shakes his head.

"Don't," he whispers.

My eyes water, but I know what I must do. I know what I must do for him, and for me, and for the world. I know what I must do.

Especially for him.

I approach him slowly, and he knows what's coming. He knows what's coming, and he nods, a tiny smile playing with the corners of his lips which quirk upwards.

"Avada Kedavra."

He drops like a stone.

"Now we're equal," I get down on my knees and whisper to his motionless body.

His eyes are open and dead. They're open, and they're grey.

It's funny. I've never actually noticed that before. The colour of his eyes. Grey.

Grey like the pavement outside on the muggle streets. Grey like the stone that Hogwarts was built out of. Grey like the iron bars put in the window of my very first bedroom in the Dursley household to stop me from escaping.

Grey like the sky. Like clouds.

Grey like the colour of freedom when I'm looking out of the bars and all I see is grey all I think is grey and it's all grey my whole room's grey my whole world's grey and it's all grey grey grey and it's all freedom only it's not, it's grey, and it's wide eyes, and it's oh no what have I done all over again like the time I accidentally spilt milk on the carpet and Uncle Vernon locked me in my cupboard for one week with only water and it's grey grey grey and it's grey …

It's grey like Draco, and Draco's eyes.

And I suddenly know why he hates the colour grey.

Because for him it's not grey like freedom, no, it's grey like stone walls and a stone mansion and a stone dungeon and a stone cold floor and an 'I'm sorry Daddy' and it's grey like a kick to the ribs like a slap to the face like a blow to the stomach and all he sees is grey, all he sees is-

'No, Daddy, no, please don't, please, I'll be good, I promise, I'll be good, I'll be good'

And it's grey like his father's eyes like his father's body like his father's bones and you're lucky you don't have a father, Potter, you're lucky, but how can I be, how can I be when all I ever wanted was a father, a mother, a family, people to love me, people to care for me, not grey, not grey grey grey like-

Draco's eyes. His beautiful, beautiful eyes. Grey.

Like the colour he sees behind his eyelids when Daddy hits him.

Tears are spilling down my face, and God, I'm so sorry Draco, but I didn't know, I didn't know.

Don'tspillthemilkdon'tanswerbackI'malwaysrightyou'realwayswrongyoudisobedientboyIhavenotbroughtyouuptoactthisway

I didn't know where those bruises on your neck were from, I didn't know that those marks in your wrists were from chains, I didn't no that those cuts on your torso weren't self-inflicted, I didn't know, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for not knowing.

noyoucan'tcomeonholidayyoupieceoffilthnoyoucan'thugmeyouflamingpoufgotoyourcupboardyouabnormalthinggotothedungeonsyouwasteofspace

I never thought that your life would be as bad as mine. Worse, even. God, Draco, you don't understand, I love you, but I had to, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . .

areyoulisteningtomeareyoulistening?

But you killed all those people, Draco, _you killed all those people._

I loved you and you killed all those people and now my world is all grey, butbutbut, my Draco, _but_, my beautiful, grey Draco . . .

It's all equilibrium now, and we're equal, it's equilibrium, I tell myself, it's equilibrium, as I try to stop the tears from running down my face.

We're equal.

End.


End file.
